


The Ocean Is Your Blanket

by altered_eagle



Series: City Goblins [27]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Ace the Bathound - Freeform, Alfred Pennyworth has the patience of a saint, Angst, Batjokes, Bruce Wayne is a Softie, Bruce and J's totally awesome gaycation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dogs like Joker, Don't copy this story OR my style, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Joker (DCU) Whump, Joker likes dogs, M/M, Medical, Opiates, POV Joker (DCU), Prescription Drug Use, Recovery, Sickfic, The Joker has a heart, and call you out, bless, flangst, fuckin' a, hello friends, i am tired of plagiarism, if you copy i WILL find you, it's in there somewhere, technically, that's right the island is back, the Good Good Boy, this one is for 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:47:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26458939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altered_eagle/pseuds/altered_eagle
Summary: It’s alright,comes the low warm tone i’ve come to know, really know—otherwise i’d be reaching in my pockets for a weapon despite having no idea where the fuck i am or why i feel like i’ve been consuming exclusively jack daniels for the three days straightGood morning,your old man calls as i crack one eye open. It’s dark and your old man’s close but not too close like he’s in another room but not quite. And there are little lights but they aren’t right. i can’t get my bearings.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU) & Alfred Pennyworth, Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Series: City Goblins [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/268030
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was asposeta be a standalone chapter of Fleetwood Macjokes but it became its own thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from song of [Sweet Girl by Stevie Nicks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWNZmMhBwhs) performed here with Fleetwood Mac.
> 
> ALSO technically this story starts with [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25269322/chapters/63278053). You can read it first for a bit more context if you'd like

[Sweet Girl: Fleetwood Mac/Stevie Nicks](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWNZmMhBwhs)

My body comes to long before my brain does, and 

for a while it just feels like floating. That’s until the entire bed dips sending my sense of gravity clean out from under me dragging an involuntary gasp from my desert throat and my temples are throbbing

_It’s alright,_ comes the low warm tone i’ve come to know, really know—otherwise i’d be reaching in my pockets for a weapon despite having no idea where the fuck i am or why i feel like i’ve been consuming exclusively jack daniels for the three days straight

_Good morning,_ your old man calls as i crack one eye open. It’s dark and your old man’s close but not too close like he’s in another room but not quite. And there are little lights but they aren’t right. i can’t get my bearings. Then

the floor dips again and my stomach drops 

and through the grey grey dark i recognize the round windows. i recognize the clean dry smell. 

i’m flying.

i’m in your jet lying on my side on the bed with an iv catheter in the back of my hand and the bag hanging above my head. You’re not here but your old man is in the pilot’s chair in the cockpit about ten feet away, asking if i need anything.

There’s a water bottle with a straw tucked right up against my chest so i take a sip and tell him no, thank you. He’s already thought of everything, from the nicotine patch on my arm down to the pillow between my knees because my hip has been giving me hell lately and the pillow’s the only way i can get comfortable lying down. i must be getting older,

being able to feel like this. 

In fact with my body feeling as shitty as it does i should be motion sick right now but something in the iv is masking it, i can tell. Something in the iv is making me sleepy and even and settled and grateful to be here, tucked into a soft bed with your old man watching over me instead of rotting in some cold basement in the narrows but 

some part of me is still convinced that that’s freedom—lying half-naked on a filthy mattress so high that i can’t feel anything so alone 

that i could just disappear. Some part of me is still there, sneering at my own broken form for daring to accept relief when it’s offered. But that’s okay; the rest of me is right here accepting. You’d say i'm doing my best.

The sudden gentle snuffling at my knee isn’t as startling as it is baffling. i’ve felt that a million times in my life same as i’ve felt the cold damp nose on my hand that follows, i just can’t. For the life of me figure out what it’s doing here. Something down deep in my chest twists as my hand reaches out to meet wiry fur, to trace a soft triangle ear half the size of my hand. 

My new friend makes a soft whining noise and then its whole head is in my lap, big dark eyes gazing across at me. Your old man is watching the two of us. When he sees me notice his head snaps back to the blue horizon. 

_Master Bruce er, liberated him from the back of one of his target’s vehicles. i believe his reasoning was something about the animal being far too thin and there’s likely more to the story, but the end result is here now._

_Aw Bruce_ , i hear myself murmur. _You old softie._

_We’re caring for him until Master Bruce finds him a good home. Seems odd that he doesn’t mind flying...it can’t be his first time._ _He must have an interesting past._

_He’s a champion._ i’m petting his head smiling wide and it’s not for anybody else, not even for you. i haven’t felt that in a long time. _He’s a tough old bludhaven brawler. Aren’t you, ace?_

_Ace..._ your old man says sounding thoughtful and the dog goes to him. Nudges at your old man’s hand until he gives in, scratches at the top of the dog’s head. 

In the dim glow of the cockpit lights i can see him better—he’s big, even though he **is** too thin like you said. And black and brown. A working dog. i wouldn’t have let the jerkoff who hurt him walk away. i would’ve shot him.

_He’s a german shepherd, i say aloud_ and your old man nods.

_It appears so. We’re still waiting on the dna test results._

_Bruce got a dna test on_ my chest heaves as i trail off into laughter that doesn’t stop and when the muscles spasm and i start to cough my new friend returns to my side. It takes a minute for the fire in my lungs to die down and by the time i’m done my head is pounding and my sinuses are burning and the dog’s set up a constant low whine, turning his head from your old man to me and back again.

_i’m okay champ,_ i tell him as the coughing stops leaving an ache in its wake. i bury one hand in the thick soft fur under his jowls and it's distracting it helps. _i’m okay ace, don’t worry. i'd tell you if i wasn't, i promise._

That seems to satisfy him and he flops down beside the bed with a huff. 

_We’ll arrive in two hours,_ your old man calls back and it occurs to my cobwebbed brain that i don’t know where we’re going or 

why your old man rustled me onto your plane in the first place.

_And just where will we be arriving?_ God my voice sounds like crap. 

_Master Bruce’s island. He’ll meet us there tomorrow, and you'll both be staying for at least a week._

My eyes narrow.

_That sounds suspiciously like this was your idea, and you think you’re going to force us._

Your old man sighs. He sighs a lot when i’m around. 

_God forbid i attempt to implement a week of rest, before you both push yourselves too hard and end up in hospital. Master Bruce needs to rest, and so do you._ There’s a resolution to his voice that forewarns how difficult arguing with him will be. Truth be told i hate arguing with your old man anyway, and i may be The Joker but refusing a week in the bahamas with free pain pills and a cool dog and the only two people in the world that give a shit about me truly does sound fucking crazy,

even to me. 

_You got me friend_ , i say with a laugh and the dog wags his tail, leaning against me. i can't see your old man's face but he's probably smiling congratulating himself. He deserves it i guess. It’ll be good to see you tomorrow. i've missed you.

i really must be getting older, being able to feel like this. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

When it hits it feels like a key in a slot. 

When it hits i feel it,, and then nothing. That’s the problem with drugs like this; your brain comes formed with the slots already in place—receptors—so when an opiate comes to them it feels like your body is meant 

to be this way.

Outside the tide rushes in, and rolls back.

The dog’s circling my frame of vision, snuffling wet-nosed at my bare fingers and toes. The sensation makes me laugh, long and slow, igniting a dull flare in my chest. 

An hour ago that flare was a firestorm, and i could barely breathe.

A floral breeze floats in through the open window bringing the smell of sun and salt water and calm. The scent soaks in deep, makes me smile without meaning to. For a while i just lay losing track of time, drinking in that smell. 

It’s been a while since i’ve had it so quiet Upstairs. It’s been a while since i could just lie like this on my back with my legs tented and stomach muscles drawn in so that my entire spine is pressed into the floor beneath. My joints are creaking, settling like an old house.

i feel the knots in my shoulders coming loose.

The dog paces, then licks my arm, and my cement hand slowly reaches up to scratch behind one velvet ear. He’s mostly black with patches of dark brown on his nose and paws but his eyes are amber bright.

Somewhere a door closes and the ear beneath my hand perks up and the air crackles as the dog’s big paw comes down on a stray candy wrapper. He waits for a minute or two but when nobody comes he circles, lets out a low whine. _It’s okay, that’s just the old man,_ i tell him, and he settles down. He likes me, but i think he misses you. i don’t have any logical reasoning, just a feeling. After all you have that power: to make anything alone and lonely become so sincerely attached to you right from the start. 

_He’ll be here soon, bud._ He huffs, sniffs at my pockets. i scratch under his chin. _He’ll be here soon ace, and we’ll let him take five...then we’ll sort out this nonsense about finding you a good home. You are home._

The dog grumbles and flops and all at once arranges himself next to me, crowding onto the yoga mat until i don’t have room to stretch. The laughter bubbles up again and i let him crowd

let my eyes fall shut.

Outside the tide rushes in, and rolls back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got prescribed some [tramadol](https://www.webmd.com/drugs/2/drug-4398-5239/tramadol-oral/tramadol-oral/details) then i took it and wrote stuff 
> 
> One time on the bird website a batjoke posted screens of my fic joking about how OP must have written this on hard drugs lol 
> 
> Junker is probably on tramadol too


End file.
